


Time in a Tapestry

by knittycat99, nubianamy



Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Closeted Character, Enemies to Friends, Friends to Lovers, Fuckurt Big Bang, M/M, Season/Series 02, Secret Relationship, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-17
Updated: 2016-07-17
Packaged: 2018-07-24 15:09:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7512946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/knittycat99/pseuds/knittycat99, https://archiveofourown.org/users/nubianamy/pseuds/nubianamy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Kurt confides in Puck at his dad’s wedding, Puck makes it his personal mission to rehabilitate Dave Karofsky. Kurt and Puck’s long-distance friendship is complicated by Kurt’s feelings for Finn, but even over time and distance, the three manage to find ways to stay connected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time in a Tapestry

**Author's Note:**

> We asked ourselves: what if Puck had been the one to reform Dave Karofsky instead of Santana? The story took shape around that concept. This is a Fuckurt story, but the focus here is on Puckurt with the other relationships undeclared or unrequited. 
> 
> Thanks to mapgirl for beautiful graphics, and to penthea for beta reading. 
> 
> \- knittycat99 & nubianamy

_Seasons change with the scenery_  
_Weaving time in a tapestry  
_ _Won't you stop and remember me_

__-[Simon and Garfunkel, “Hazy Shade of Winter” ](https://youtu.be/bnZdlhUDEJo)_ _

 

* * *

 

 

 

Puck spread the cards out in his hand, surveying the selection. To his right, Sam sighed.

“Dude, the table talk again?”

“One raised eyebrow is not table talk,” Puck said calmly. “For your information, I can win a game of euchre just fine without resorting to cheating.”

“Doesn’t mean you don’t do it anyway, just to see if you can get away with it,” Santana murmured. “Anyway, it doesn’t matter. I’m going alone.”

It was just as well, considering he had a hand full of nines and tens. Puck grinned and waggled both eyebrows at Quinn to his left as he ditched his cards on the table.

“Sounds like it’s time for an ice run.” He snagged the bucket full of water off the side table. It sloshed a little onto the white hotel tablecloth. “Back in five. And watch it, ‘Tana, I’m pretty sure Sam’s got some hand signals of his own going on. Either that, or he’s jerking off under the table.”

“Gross!” cried Quinn, amid jeers from Santana and protests from Sam. Puck cackled and took off for the hallway.

He didn’t see many wedding guests remaining around the ballroom. Most of them had probably crashed before midnight, or they were holed up in shady corners of the hotel, doing what came naturally to wistful, drunk wedding guests. Burt and Carole were nowhere to be seen, of course, being the guests of honor, but he spotted Mr. Schue still chatting earnestly with Coach Beiste.

Puck took a left into the hallway where the guest rooms began, but the ice machine there was busted. He made a quick loop up two flights of stairs to the ice machine directly above it. The hallway was pretty quiet, which was probably why he caught the muffled sob down the hall. He set down the ice bucket and went to investigate.

It was Kurt, hunched over his own knees. As soon as he saw Puck, he wiped his eyes and sniffed, trying to do that _don’t-see-me_ thing that went over like a lead balloon. “Hey, Puck.”

“Just tell me, is it physical or emotional?” Puck asked. He crouched down beside Kurt, studying his red face.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just trying to decide if I should be looking for somebody to punch or listening to you talk.”

That got him a watery smile, at least. “Trust me, this is nobody’s fault but my own. You don’t have to defend me.”

“Good, because if Karofsky had snuck in here or something --”

“No,” Kurt said quickly. “I’m -- it’s not about that.”

The silence went on for longer than would have made most people comfortable, but Puck just remained there, letting his eyes slide to the floor, and waited. Kurt sniffed again. When Puck offered his handkerchief, Kurt looked a little startled, but he took it.

“My nana says always come prepared,” said Puck.

“I’m sure there are layers of meaning to that concept.”

“You’d better believe it.” He grinned, and Kurt rolled his eyes a little.

“Aren’t you going to say something about the toast?” he said at last.

Puck checked the floor around them, but there was no toast in evidence. “What, you mean the best man speech thing that Finn did?”

“It’s all anybody’s said to me all night. _Kurt, wasn’t that amazing? Finn was so brave, the way he apologized, dancing with you,_ ad nauseum.” He blew out an exasperated breath. “That’s what straight guys get who so much as dip their toe into anti-homophobic behavior. _He’s so brave._ Yeah, and I just planned the whole freaking wedding.”

“I thought it was pretty cool,” Puck said.

“Of course you do, you’re his best friend.” Kurt stared at the floor and sighed again. “I’m sorry. You don’t need to sit here and listen to me whine about Finn.”

He shrugged. “Sounds like somebody needs to. And you can say anything you want. I know everything bad about Finn, trust me. You can’t rock this opinion with facts. You think he had an ulterior motive for doing that toast?”

“What?” Kurt looked unsettled. “No! He was trying to -- you know, be a good guy. That’s what he does.”

“Well, he actually _is_ a good guy, most of the time. Even if he doesn’t have any idea what he’s doing.” Puck stretched his legs out into the empty hallway, and Kurt did the same. His legs were about an inch longer than Puck’s. Puck guessed that Kurt’s shoes had cost more money than he’d spent on his tux rental. He could see Kurt’s socks peeking out from under his tuxedo pants. They had red lips patterned on them.

“I’m not trying to suggest he was trying to manipulate me. Or convince anybody of anything. I’m just saying that now it’s going to be even _harder_ to --”

Kurt closed his mouth on that thought. It hung in the air, almost as loud as it would have been if he’d spoken. Puck shrugged.

“Hate to say it, Kurt, but you’re already not fooling anybody. Not after that chair song you sang to him in Glee.”

He winced a little, shrinking back into his tux jacket. “I know,” he whispered. “That… was stupid.”

“Yeah, and now you’ve gotta be his roommate? Jeez. Not sure how you’re gonna deal with that.”

The tears started up again. Kurt hid behind Puck’s handkerchief, wiping his eyes. Puck waited until he was calm before offering his hand, palm up. Kurt stared at it for a moment, and actually glanced nervously down the hall once before taking it and giving it a little squeeze.

“I just want to run away and never come back,” Kurt admitted. “Not very much like what Finn was saying, about me being a man.”

“Well, sometimes a man has to protect himself. Trust me, I saw that confrontation with Karofsky and Sam last week in the locker room. I don’t think that’s going to get any easier either. We’re going to have to step up the security detail.”

“I can deal with Karofsky,” said Kurt tersely. “To be honest… this is a lot harder.”

“You could switch schools.”

Kurt started to reply to that, but then he paused, frowning. “I -- don’t think my father has the money to send me where I want to go.”

“Where’s that?”

“Dalton Academy.”

Puck let go of Kurt’s hand. “If your dad is anything like Finn’s mom, I’m guessing he’d suck it up to send you wherever you wanted to go to feel safe.”

Kurt seemed to actually think about that. “He might not even trust me to let me go.  I mean, I've been lying to him about Karofsky all year.  He was pretty upset with me about that.”

Puck grinned. “You think? I bet you could get away with anything. Finn always does. He’s got the good-guy image going for him, after all.”

“I know.  I do okay.  Dad gives me a lot of leeway in lots of ways, but he hates being lied to.  I tried to tell him that omitting details isn't the same as lying, but I probably swore I was okay right to his face too many times. Finn’s just so . . . earnest.” Kurt sighed, heavily.  “Even when he screws up, it doesn't matter because he never means to, you know?”

“Like tonight?” Puck nudged his knee. It wasn’t a very hard nudge, but it almost knocked Kurt over. He didn’t seem fazed by it, though. He just shook his head.

“I don’t think being awesome at your mother’s wedding counts as _screwing up._ Even if he’s only trying to make up for all the crummy things that happened before.”

“I guess.” Puck went through all his memories of Finn going overboard apologizing for his screw-ups. Some of them hadn’t exactly felt good; others had felt so good they had been dangerous. “So what do you do? You just smile and say thank you?”

Kurt sighed, and it sounded to Puck like he was more resigned than sad.  “You know those videos?  The It Gets Better ones?  It feels like such bullshit, you know?  All these people out there talking about how life is so amazing.  But they’re not the ones in that hallway with me every fucking day.”  

Puck gave him an approving nod. “An F-bomb from Kurt Hummel. Nice.” He stretched his arms, settling his shoulders in his tux jacket. “Maybe they were the ones walking down the hallway in disguise, too scared to be you. It’s supposed to get better for them, too, right?”

Kurt looked at him.   _Really_ looked, even though his eyes were narrowed.  Puck felt it, in the same place where he felt dangerously good around Finn, sometimes.  He could see the questions Kurt wanted to ask written all over his face, but the words never came.  Instead, Kurt just leaned a little closer. Puck mirrored his action, giving him something firm to lean against, and he felt Kurt sigh.

“I think you’re the one who did something miraculous here,” said Puck.

“Oh, yeah?” Kurt sounded startled. “What do you mean?”

“You taught Finn how to dance.”

Kurt giggle-snorted, and the heaviness between them disintegrated into silliness. If he’d been a little more drunk, Puck might have tried to tickle him, but as it was, he just heaved himself to his feet.

“We probably lost the euchre game by now,” said Puck. “I’d better go apologize. I hope nobody took my ice bucket; I left it in the hallway. See you at school.”

“Yeah.  School.  ‘Night, Puck.  And thanks.”

After his last day at McKinley, both Carole and his dad came home early to help him pack, but Kurt wasn’t sure how much longer he could stand to be around them. He already felt guilty enough about taking their honeymoon money to pay for his first semester at Dalton. The mid-semester transfer fees alone cost more than his monthly clothing allowance. He let them put boxes together for a while before chasing them out of the basement.

“Just let me know if there’s anything you need, Kurt,” said his dad. “We’ll be right upstairs.”

But when the doorbell rang a half-hour later, his dad came back downstairs with a funny expression on his face.

“Did you call Noah Puckerman?” he asked.

“No?”

His dad jerked his thumb at the stairs. “Well, he’s on the porch. Says he came to help you move?”

“You can let him come down,” Kurt said, even though he wasn’t sure it was really a good idea.  “I’m just surprised he’s the one that came.”  Surprised, and _hurt_ , if he was being honest, that Mercedes and Tina hadn’t been the first ones at his door.

Puck didn’t have anything in his hands. When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he looked a little uncomfortable. “I could take a load upstairs for you, if you want.”

“Thanks.” Kurt nodded at the stack by the foot of the bed marked _Winter._ “All those can go. You do know it’s an hour and a half drive from here?”

“Yeah.  I thought, maybe, you wouldn’t want your parents to drive you.” He picked up one box, weighing it in his hands, then added a second one. “You all look pretty upset.”

“Well.  I talked about wanting to go at the wedding, but this isn’t entirely by choice.  My dad found out I was lying to him, about the bullying, and he’s pissed off and wants me safe.”

“Can you blame him? At least you’ve got a dad who cares enough to send you someplace good.” Puck picked up the roll of strapping tape, fiddling with the sticky edge. “And it’s not like things are going to Get Better around here any time soon.”

Kurt had to grin when he heard the capital letters. “Well, if I’m not around to bully, they’ll be better for _me.”_

Puck blew an angry breath through his nose. “Hey, you’re not the only queer kid at McKinley, you know.”

Kurt’s heartbeat stuttered, and he felt his breathing start to go panicky.  “You can’t tell him I told you!” he cried.  He could imagine an enraged Dave Karofsky tracking him down at Dalton and following through on his threat.  “He really will kill me!”

Puck stared at him. After a few seconds, he put the boxes down on the stairs.

“ _Karofsky?”_ he whispered. “Holy shit, no way.”

“Shut up shut up shut _up_.”  Kurt buried his face in his hands.  “Oh my god, this isn’t happening.”

“Kurt, relax.” Puck was standing right in front of him, grabbing his wrists and pulling them down. “I won’t tell anybody, I swear. Okay?”

Kurt took a few deep breaths.  “Okay.”  He stared at Puck for a long moment before shaking his head.  “Sorry.  I’m kind of confused right now.  If you didn’t mean Dave . . . “ he trailed off.  

“Never mind. I’m just saying -- it’s not important.” He scowled at the staircase. “That douchecanoe. I’m not going to let him intimidate you, or anybody else. You’d better believe it.”

It was a little weird after that. Puck didn’t say much; he just picked up armloads of boxes as Kurt packed them and took them upstairs. When he appeared at the top of the staircase saying, “I can’t fit any more under the tarp,” Kurt came up to survey the packed truck.

“I guess we’d better take them now, then,” Kurt said. “Ready for a drive?”

He shrugged. “Unless you want me to take them without you. You can just tell me where to drop them off.”

“No, that’s okay.”  He’d gone up to the kitchen for water half an hour before and found his dad and Carole on the living room sofa crying.  “I think maybe it would be better for everyone if I rode with you.  Dad already wants to come down and visit this weekend.  He doesn’t need to make the drive twice in a week.”

Puck took a minute to unearth the passenger seat from under mounds of fast-food wrappers and paper cups. Kurt sat gingerly on the grimy upholstery, determined not to complain. They drove in silence for a while.

“So,” Puck asked at last, “how have things been with Finn? You dealing okay with being his stepbrother?”

“It’s a little better.  Though, seriously, I don’t think this is going to help.  Finn’s got that whole trust thing going on, the way he always kind of believes the best about people?  And in the choir room he looked like I had broken his heart.”

Puck kept his eyes on the road. “Maybe he was hoping to make it better with you, and now he thinks he won’t have a chance.”

Kurt shrugged, looking out the window. “It’s not like I’m going to be gone all the time. Dalton’s not that far. I’ll still be home on weekends.”

“You think you’re actually still gonna want to associate with us plebes? As a _Dalton_ man?”

Kurt snorted. “It’ll be a while before I’m going to feel like a Dalton man, I think. As much as I’m looking forward to being away from that Neanderthal, I don’t _actually_ want to go.”

Puck was silent for another long stretch of road, interrupted only by his hands drumming on the steering wheel and Kurt shifting in his seat.

“You guys have no idea, do you?” Kurt asked, softly.

“About what?”  Puck looked uneasy.

“Glee club.  All of you guys.  Saved my life.”  

He could tell Puck was really getting freaked out, so he closed his mouth on the rest of the words and managed to curb his sniffles.

“I dunno,” Puck said at last. He scratched his ear. “I think -- well, we could have done a lot more.” He looked over at Kurt. “ _I_ could have done a lot more.”

“No,” Kurt protested, but Puck shook his head firmly.

“No, I could have. Lots of times. When Karofsky and Azimio and those other assholes were harassing you, I could totally have taken them. Maybe if I had, you wouldn’t have had to ditch like this, just before sectionals. It sucks.”

“Do you think . . .” Kurt stopped and tried to organize his thoughts.  “Do you think maybe that’s why Finn did all of that, the dance at the wedding and looking like I’d kicked his puppy in the choir room today? Because he was trying to help more?  And now, maybe I’m running away without giving him a _chance_ to help.”

“Dude, you gave us a zillion chances. I’m not saying what you did wasn’t the right decision. Just that it sucks. Mostly for us.”

Maybe it was the quiet intimacy of driving together that made Kurt finally ask the question that had been rolling over and over in his head since Puck had shown up at his house.  “Why are you suddenly being so friendly?  I mean, not that we aren’t friends, but we’ve never been _this_ kind of friends.”

“Yeah, well.” Puck shrugged, squinting into the sun. He snapped the visor down and slouched back in his seat. “What do they say about guys who end up in prison? It gives you a lot of time to think about everything. About all the stuff you did, and... you know.”

Kurt really didn’t, but he took a guess. “Are you trying to atone?”

“What? No.” Puck laughed. “I’m not sorry for any of that shit. Okay, maybe I’m a little sorry for throwing you into the dumpster. I know that was hell on your clothes.”

“No worse than slushies.  Actually, the slushies were the worst.”

Puck snorted. “Yeah? Try getting your nipple ring yanked out.”

Kurt winced.  “Yeah, I’d rather not, thanks. I wouldn’t put it past -- I mean, it’s not like they did it for the same reason they do that stuff to me...”

He paused, letting his sentence trail off, and focused on Puck’s grim face.

“Did they?” he asked in a small voice.

Puck didn’t move his eyes off the road, and if Kurt hadn’t been staring he wouldn’t have even seen the tiniest shift of Puck’s chin upwards.  

“Oh.”

“I don’t need you to feel sorry for me,” Puck said, voice suddenly hard.

“I don’t- I mean- that’s not.   _Fuck_.” Now he didn’t know where to look.  “I’m sorry you’ve been dealing with it alone, is all.  I know what that’s like.”

“Trust me, it’s better keeping stuff to myself than dealing with Finn ‘I’m not a homophobe’ Hudson. I don’t need to justify anything to anybody, and I _definitely_ don’t need labels, but I’d prefer to hang on to the friendships I’ve got left.”

Kurt resented the awkward silence, but he wasn’t sure what he could say to Puck after that. _You’ve got one right here?_ That might feel like a little too much, given their history.

“I won’t tell him,” he said at last. “And I’m not judging you, for keeping it under wraps. I just don’t think anybody else in Glee would judge you either. Including Finn, once he got over the surprise.”

“The surprise of me being . . .  how I am, sure, he’d probably get over that with enough time.  But I doubt he’d ever get over the fact that I’m fucking in love with him.”

Kurt sat there, open-mouthed, for long enough that Puck turned in his seat and scowled at him.

“Like you should talk.”

Kurt swallowed. “I didn’t say anything. Would you keep your eyes on the road?”

“I’m fine,” Puck said.  “I could drive in a straight line with my eyes closed.”

“Please don’t.  I’d like to make it to Dalton alive.”

When Puck spoke again after a long silence, his voice was barely a whisper.  “I wouldn’t let anything happen to you.”

Kurt felt the flush overtake his face, taking with it the rest of his words. He rehearsed six or seven little speeches while they parked in front of his new dormitory and unloaded boxes onto the dolly the desk clerk provided them, but none of them seemed honest enough. It was hard not to look at Puck with new eyes after the enlightening conversation they’d just had.

Puck waited with his armload of boxes as Kurt unlocked the door to his room. When Kurt gestured for him to go in first, Puck hesitated.

“Look, you don’t have to want to be my friend, just because I helped you move.” Now he sounded less angry and more resigned. “Or -- for any other reason, okay? You’re not getting special treatment. I’d do this for anybody.”

Kurt waited until they had both set their boxes on the desk before fixing Puck with what Mercedes called his _bitch, please_ face.  “I don’t give my friendship to just anyone, Puck.  Whether you helped me move or . . . what we talked about in the car.  I know I don’t always treat you well, but you’re not a bad person.”  He poked the toe of his shoe at the scuffed linoleum.  “You don’t take me too seriously, and you make me laugh.   _Those_ are definitely friend-worthy characteristics in my book.”

“Yeah, okay.” Puck looked up suddenly, grinning. It was abrupt enough to catch Kurt off guard, but then, Puck had been doing that all afternoon. “I think if you were _too_ nice to me, I’d start feeling suspicious.”

They were interrupted by a knock on Kurt’s open door.  Kurt thought maybe it would be Blaine, but it was Wes.  

“Welcome to Dalton!” Wes said, grinning hard.  “You’re going to be a great addition to the Warblers, of course, but I’ve also been assigned to be your big brother to help you get settled.  What do you need right now?”

“I've still got boxes in Puck’s truck.  He helped me pack at home, and I bet his arms are going to fall off if he has to carry any more.  And, it’s a long drive back to Lima.”  He stared hard at Puck, willing him to understand.   _I’m not trying to get rid of you, I’m just trying to rip this bandage off.  I can’t do this if I spend too much time thinking._

Thankfully, Puck seemed to get it.  As they made their way back to the parking lot, he clamped a hand on Kurt’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper into Kurt’s ear.  “I’ll take off once we finish unloading.  You’ve got people here to take care of you.”

“Thank you,” Kurt said back to him.  “Really.  I’ll . . . Um.  I’ll text you?”

“Sure.” Puck said it easily, as though it were no big deal, but Kurt could see the flash in his eyes.

They shared an awkward hug in the parking lot, Wes watching from the dorm steps.  When Kurt reached him, Wes eyed him cautiously.  

“I’ve been doing the long distance thing with my girlfriend this year, so if you need advice about managing it, feel free to ask.  But at least Puck has a car.  Caroline would have to take the bus out to visit.”

Kurt’s face went unexpectedly hot.  “It’s not, we’re not.  Puck’s not my boyfriend.”

Wes’ eyebrows went up. “Oh.”

“Really.  He’s not.  Just . . .  a friend, I guess.  Kind of a new friend.  I mean, we’ve been in Glee together, and he was always nice to me when I played football.  But he’s really Finn’s friend.  Though, since we’re brothers now I guess that makes Puck my friend too.  Oh.”  He stopped on the landing and covered his eyes with his hand.  “I’m sorry, I’m doing my nervous talking thing.  I’m really nervous.”

“It’s okay, really.  I’ve got to monitor study hall at 8, so how about I let you unpack and I’ll come back after and we can go to the common room for snack.  There are lots of interesting guys in this dorm.  Did you know that one of them is actually royalty?”

“That would be good.  Thank you.”  Kurt waved as Wes took off down the hall.

Kurt was about halfway through hanging his winter wardrobe when he got the text from Puck. He didn’t recognize the number, but the content made it clear who it was.

_Home ok. Wes seems nice.  Don't forget about us Lima Losers._

Kurt was surprised on Saturday when, along with Carole and his dad, Finn climbed out of the back seat of Carole’s station wagon. He gave Kurt a lopsided smile, his eyes big as he took in the Dalton campus.

“This place is pretty fancy,” he said to Kurt. He was holding a potted plant, which he thrust into Kurt’s hands. “Here. This is from Rachel. Don’t ask me, she said you’d like it.”

“Oh.  It looks, um.  Prickly.  And green.”

“Oh, how nice of Rachel,” Carole said.  “It's a Christmas cactus.”

His dad rumpled Kurt’s hair, which Kurt had to attribute to nervousness. He bit back a retort and smoothed it down as unobtrusively as he could.

“How’s it going?” his dad asked. “Feeling at home here yet?”

“Not exactly,” said Kurt. “Everybody’s nice, though. And I only have to share my bathroom with two people instead of three.”

He didn’t want to tell them just how lonely it had been, but he figured it would end up being something like summer camp, where the beginning was lousy and by the end he didn’t want to leave. His father and Carole made small talk as he led them on a walking tour of the tidy Dalton grounds, while Finn hung back behind them, looking awkward.

When Carole stopped to use the bathroom, his father wandered away. Finn sidled up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.”  He tried to sound confident, but his voice must have betrayed him.

“You sure?” Finn pressed.  “‘Cause you look kind of sad.”

It was hard to find himself this close to Finn after being away from him for a week, particularly considering the new information about Puck’s feelings for him. It wasn’t like Kurt had never fantasized about Finn with other people, but it was the first time there was someone else who he _knew_ actually wanted that from Finn. It was very distracting.

“I miss you guys,” said Kurt. “I mean -- I miss Glee. I miss everybody in Glee. Not just you or anybody else in particular.” He winced, shaking his head. “It’s okay. I’m getting used to it.”

“We miss you, too.  Puck got Lauren to join us so we have enough people to compete, but she’s not really nice.”

Kurt grabbed at the opening Finn provided.  “How is Puck?  Besides suddenly friends with Lauren, apparently.”

Finn seemed confused by the question. “He’s… Puck? He’s been kind of weird since he went to juvie, I guess, but he’s mostly the same as always.” He shrugged.

“Okay.  That’s good, I guess.”  

The rest of the visit flew by, and before Kurt knew it he was getting out of Carole’s car after dinner in town.  There were so many things he wanted to say to all of them, but the only words he could get out were to Finn.  

“Thanks for coming,” he said, leaning into the backseat through the open window.  “I’m glad we’re brothers.”

Finn gave him a dazzling grin, one that left Kurt a little breathless. “Yeah. Me too.”

He wasn’t going to say _tell Puck to text me,_ even though he wanted to. After that single text last week, he’d been silent. Kurt had to wonder what must be going through his head, but he didn’t want to pester him, either.

Instead, he settled on comfortable middle ground.  “Say hi to everyone for me.”

Finn’s smile, plus thoughts of Puck’s startling admission, stayed with him long after Carole’s station wagon had driven away. He returned to his room, uncomfortable and annoyed and irritatingly turned on. He was on the verge of doing something to take care of it when there was a knock on his door.

Blaine stood there, his smile fading somewhat when he saw Kurt’s expression. “Oh -- are you okay? You look a little pissed.”

“No, no,” Kurt said hastily, waving Blaine into his room. Then he paused, wondering if Blaine was _actually_ planning to come in, and took a step forward just as Blaine walked in, and they collided in the middle of the doorway. Kurt stumbled back, apologizing even as his face burned with embarrassment, but Blaine was laughing.

“I won’t bother you for long. I was just coming over to ask if you’d considered auditioning for a solo for Sectionals.”

That didn’t do much to calm him down, but he was gracious enough to smile and nod. “Yes, I thought I would.”

“Excellent!” Blaine nodded, bouncing on his toes. “I’m sure you’ll choose something amazing. The Council and I will look forward to hearing you.”

Kurt sent a text to Rachel as soon as Blaine had bid him good night. _Thanks for the cactus._

_You’re welcome,_ she sent back immediately. _It’s for endurance and adaptability._

_I could use some of both,_ he replied. _Plus a suggestion for what to sing for my audition? I’m hoping for a solo with the Warblers._

_I know the perfect song to get you noticed,_ Rachel said.

Kurt stormed into his room, slamming the door for effect and hurling his messenger bag onto his bed.  His hands were shaking when he pulled out his phone, and he let his finger hover an extra few seconds over Rachel’s name in his contacts before he scrolled down to P and tapped on Puck’s name.   _I know you’re in Glee right now. Tell Rachel her song advice was a fucking disaster._

Less than ten seconds later a response came.   _Huh?_

_Rachel.  Gives terrible advice._

_Dude.  You’re only figuring that out now?_

Kurt sniffle-laughed despite being pissed off.   _Apparently, yes._

_What happened?_

_It’s a long story, it can wait._

_Schue’s blabbering about something stupid.  Entertain me._

It took Kurt four and a half texts to tell an abbreviated version of the whole story, from Blaine’s invitation to Rachel’s advice to what Kurt considered one of his best performances ever.

_So I sang and then when Blaine came out to talk to me and the other guys he said that I stood out too much, and I needed to blend in better because that’s what matters about the Warblers._

The thought nagged at him that, anti-bullying policy or not, Dalton prized conformity even more than McKinley did.  He hated feeling that way, so he didn’t say _that_ to Puck even though he wanted to.  Instead, he went with something more benign.   _I thought it was going to be better here._

_No slushies,_ said Puck. _No Karofsky._

_No individuality_ , Kurt sent back. _Did Finn tell you, I have to play a sport starting next term?_

_Do you want me to play you a tiny violin?_

_Asshole.  No.  I don’t really want sympathy, just to talk to someone who kind of gets me?  And I’m too mad at Rachel right now._

_Dude.  Maybe it’s not all her fault?  I mean, you took her advice, right?_

Kurt tossed the phone on the bed and stomped around the room for a while, grumbling. He ignored the buzz of an arriving text and put Funny Girl on the CD player, but it reminded him too much of Rachel and he turned it back off again. He sighed and picked up his phone.

_I didn’t actually want to be an asshole to you just then,_ Puck had said.

_No, you’re right.  I guess I’m just used to singing with a group that prides itself on being unique, and the way the Warblers are is like exactly the opposite of New Directions.  We don’t even dance.  It’s all sway sway, step touch, sway.  Mike and Britt would hate it._

_You want me to come out there and shake things up a little?_

Kurt stared at his phone for a long minute, because the offer sounded awfully good, and he wasn’t exactly sure why. It might have been because the idea of shaking up the Warblers was deliciously tempting -- or it might have been just because he was lonely, and a friend like Puck was better than no one.

_If you don’t mind the long drive again,_ he typed back.

_I can be there by five._

Kurt spent the intervening time cleaning his room, which was already pretty clean. At 4:55, Blaine arrived at his door, waving a flyer in Kurt’s face.

“There’s a new coffee place opening on Miller,” he said. “Free lattes. You up for a walk over there before dinner?”

“My friend Puck, from home, is coming to visit.  Sorry.  Sounds fun, though.  Maybe we can go another day.”  He didn’t want to alienate Blaine, who was still the friendliest of all the Warblers.

“Hey, if you’re busy,” they heard from the hallway. Kurt peered out to see Puck leaning against the wall in his letterman jacket, arms crossed, looking like he didn’t have a care in the world -- which, Kurt was coming to understand, meant that he did.

“Hi! Were you waiting long? I know it’s a long drive.” God, was he babbling again? “Um -- this is Blaine, the lead soloist of the Warblers. Blaine, this is… Noah Puckerman, from the New Directions.”

Puck stuck his hand out to Blaine, who took it, but Kurt could tell that he didn’t shake with any strength or confidence.  “Puck.”

“I was just telling Kurt about this new coffee place that’s giving away free lattes. Maybe we could all go together.”

Puck smiled in a way that made it clear that free lattes, or at least free lattes with Blaine, were the last thing he wanted to do at the moment, but he made a motion for Kurt and Blaine to precede him. “Sure. Why not.”

It was just about as awkward as Kurt had ever felt around Puck. He listened to Blaine talk and watched Puck not-react to everything he said, cringing inside every time. He was pretty sure Blaine didn’t _mean_ for everything he said to be mildly offensive, but he still felt embarrassed on his behalf.

When Blaine got up to use the restroom, Kurt leaned close to Puck.  “It would be really rude to take off and leave him, right?”

“It would.  But I came out here because I -- I wanted to hang out with _you_.” He was avoiding Kurt’s eyes. “You got a better way to get rid of him?”

Kurt bit his lip. “Can you go to the bathroom, then call me in about five minutes?”

Blaine returned to the table and took his seat beside Kurt, not seeming to notice Puck’s absence and continuing with their conversation as though he hadn’t even been gone. Kurt listened politely, but when his phone rang, he put it to his ear. “Oh, hi, Mercedes!”

“ _Am I supposed to play this straight?”_ asked Puck. In a falsetto voice, he said, _“Kurt, your house is on fire!”_

Kurt tried hard not to crack a smile. “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that. That’s -- that’s terrible.” He put a hand over the receiver. “Personal crisis. I think I should deal with this.”

Blaine nodded sympathetically. “You’re a good friend, Kurt. I can settle up the bill and let Puck know you went back to your room.”

_“Kurt, I’ve fallen and I can’t get up!”_ wailed Puck.

“You’re a horrible actor,” he said, pushing the door open.

_“Where to now? You’re not going to make me stay in the bathroom, are you?”_

“How do you like tacos?”

_“Love ‘em.  Don’t tell me there’s more than a Taco Bell in Westerville.”_

“Out the back and around the block, then east two streets. It’s a local place. Their guacamole is to die for.”

They ordered, but when the clerk asked if they wanted their food to go, Kurt hesitated.  “Do you want to eat here, or...?”

“This is fine.  Later we could walk, you can show me Westerville.”

“There’s about as much to see in Westerville as there is in Lima.”

“I thought the idea was that it was _safe,_ not _interesting.”_ Puck slid into the booth across from him, grinning. “Speaking of that… I’m on a mission. You wanna hear about it?”

“Please.”  

“Well…” He picked up a tortilla chip and pointed it at Kurt. “Without telling him how I figured it out, I made it clear to Mr. David Karofsky that I knew the score about him.”

Kurt stared at him in horror. “Oh, no!”

“Oh yes,” said Puck. “And not only that, but I told him he was going to clean up his act, or I would inform Jacob Ben Israel about the way he checks out Sam’s jeans when he bends over to use the water fountain.”

Kurt had lost his appetite. “Puck, you -- you can’t do that to people!”

“Yeah? Watch me.” He looked completely satisfied with himself, crunching into his tortilla chip. “Of course, I told him about me, too.”

Now Kurt was completely bewildered. “You did?”

“Yeah. He needs some incentive to stop being such a complete prick. Trust me, Kurt. This is gonna work.”

Kurt rolled his eyes.  “I’ll believe it when I see it.”

“This is the thing about Dave. He doesn’t believe that guys can be jocks and still like other guys at the same time. He needs a regular guy friend.” He paused. “Not that you’re not a regular guy. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I know.”  And Kurt _did_ know.  “That’s another thing I like about you, Puck.  Your insults are never personal.”

“You mean there are _two_ things you like about me?” His grin took over his face. “You’re gonna have to tell me about the first one some time.”

When their food arrived, they ate in silence other than Puck complimenting both the tacos and the guacamole.  Kurt hadn’t realized how hungry he actually was; getting through every day without wondering what was going to jump out at him from behind every corner had drastically improved his appetite.  

“You ready to go?  There’s an ice cream place across from the park, if you want dessert.”

Puck nodded. “I think I can handle that.”

They talked about nonsense while they walked; Puck had more stories about crazy Miss Holliday, and Kurt told Puck about the boys at the end of his hall who had saran-wrapped the headmaster’s car as a practical joke.  

“So Mr. Hobart is outside in the rain, trying to cut the plastic with this Exacto knife without damaging the paint on his car.  It was priceless.”

Puck practically fell over snorting with laughter, although he managed not to knock Kurt off the curb as they walked. “Sounds like you’re doing okay, then.”

“I’m managing.  This is never going to be like home, but it’s okay for now.”

Puck stopped short, and Kurt had to backpedal to stop next to him.  

“You okay?”

Puck huffed a little laugh.  “Yeah,” he said, shaking his head as if to clear it.  “Yeah.  I’m fine.  Just.”

“What?”

“I was just thinking that’s how New Directions feels, now.  Without you.”

It was, maybe, the most uninhibited Kurt had ever heard Puck be.  “Oh.”  And he was stunned to realize that tears were pricking his eyes.  He sniffed, and scrubbed at his cheeks.  “Sorry.  I think- I think I’m more homesick than I realize.”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell.”  Puck reached out and grabbed Kurt’s hand, almost pulling him along the sidewalk to the ice cream shop.  That hand made Kurt felt more tethered than he had since he’d come to Dalton.

“That was the other thing,” he said after a moment. Puck looked at him sideways.

“What other thing?”

“The -- the first thing I like about you.” He smiled, the tears mostly hidden now. “You’re a lot nicer than you let on.”

“Oh,” said Puck. Then he grinned, waving their joined hands. “I thought maybe it was my arms.”

“Well, you do have very nice -- I mean.” He shook his head to clear it. “Never mind.”

“You can say it, I know I have awesome guns.  I work hard for these, man.”

“Nope,” Kurt insisted, “you lost your nice points with that one. Now you have to start over.”

Puck looked taken aback. “You’re saying my arms don’t compensate for my ego?”

“Only in times of great need. You’re going to need to be extra nice to me to compensate for _that_ ego.”

“Can I compensate with feats of strength?” He flexed, and even through his jacket, Kurt couldn’t help watching. “Because, honestly, if I can’t lift big things for you, or do pull-ups, I’m pretty sure I’m just going to have to stick with being an asshole.”

“You’re not an asshole,” Kurt said softly.  “It’s a good show, for everyone else.  But I know you, and I know you’re not that guy.”

“Look who thinks he knows so much,” murmured Puck.  But his voice was soft, too, and he was smiling. “You might be trying to reform _me_ next.”

It was a little too close to the truth for Kurt, and he took a step away, directing his attention elsewhere. They walked beside one another without touching the rest of the way to the ice cream shop. Puck paid for Kurt’s scoop of Gold Medal Ribbon in a cup without asking, and Kurt decided not to challenge him on it. He licked the caramel swirl off his spoon.

Puck’s Rocky Road in a cone was a little messier than he’d bargained for, and he ended up pausing on the sidewalk to mop off his sleeve when the cone sprang a leak at the bottom. Kurt decided not to suggest Puck bite a hole in the bottom and suck the rest of the ice cream out, because he wasn’t at all sure he could handle watching him do that.

“How’s Finn doing?” he asked at last. Puck smirked.

“Subtle, Hummel.  Really subtle.”

“Oh, come on, I didn’t mean it that way.  He just seemed not himself when everyone visited a few weeks ago.  I know we haven’t been brothers for long, but I worry about him.”

“Kurt, you’re not brothers. Any more than he and I were ever brothers.” Puck was scowling, and Kurt felt suddenly uneasy. He paused in the shade of the tree behind his dorm and put a hand on Puck’s arm.

“I wasn’t trying to make this about him. Yes, I miss -- everybody, but I know how he gets when things change.”

“He’s Finn.  You’re right, he hates change.  But he never says a word because he wants everyone to like him.  He misses you, Rachel and Quinn are fighting over him, Coach is still playing Sam as QB.”

“And the two of you?”

Puck laughed, but it was bitter.  “I’m hanging out with Dave Karofsky.  How do you _think_ things are with us?  They hate each other, so he’s pissed at me, but he’s doing that thing where he acts like he’s not.”

Kurt nodded.  “Because he’s Finn and he wants everyone to like him.”

“Yeah.” Puck shrugged, his shoulders dropping. “And I like him anyway. Not that he’s ever going to notice.”

He squeezed Puck’s arm, which felt startlingly firm under his hand. “I know exactly what you mean.”

“I know you do.” Puck took a shaky breath, letting it out slowly as he stared across the courtyard. “That’s… well, maybe a little weird, but mostly nice. To know somebody understands.”

When he turned back to Kurt, the look in his eyes was a little intense for the middle of a Dalton courtyard, but Kurt found he couldn’t quite look away. He swallowed, watching Puck’s gaze drop to his lips.

“It’s good,” Kurt agreed, when he found his voice again. “To have someone to talk about that with. I’m glad we’re… friends.”

“Yeah.” His lips parted on the word, and it hovered there as he breathed.

Kurt went back and forth between _this is a really bad idea_ and _is this actually happening,_ with a healthy dose of _he is way hotter up close,_ but when Puck leaned in to kiss him, he just stood there and made a little squeaky noise. Later he would replay that moment over and over in his head, facepalming about his own stupidity the whole time, because wow, way to waste a moment pressed up against Noah Puckerman.

“I should stop,” whispered Puck.

“Yes you should,” Kurt whispered back immediately.

Puck took a step back, and Kurt put a hand on his chest. The net effect should have been to move them away from one another, but somehow the next moment they were both kissing again, and this time Kurt had a hand around the back of Puck’s neck and was deepening the kiss. When Puck made a surprised noise, Kurt echoed him, and the two sounds came together in his stomach and made him quiver all over.

“Oh!”

They leapt apart at Blaine’s exclamation, and stared at one another for a brief, confused moment before stepping away for real.

“Hi, Blaine,” said Kurt. “Puck was just -- saying good-bye.”

“Yeah,” muttered Puck. He didn’t look at Blaine. “I’ll talk to you later, Kurt.”

“Puck, wait!”  Kurt tried to go after him as he trudged across the parking lot, head down and shoulders stooped.

Blaine stopped him with a hand around his wrist.  “Let him go, Kurt.  Trust me, it’s better this way.”

“Better how?”

“Give him the chance to freak out in private.”

Kurt waited until he couldn’t see Puck anymore, before making his way to the entrance to the dorm.  “I don’t think he’s freaking out.”

“Really?” Blaine said, following Kurt up the stairs.  “I know how hard it is to have crushes on your straight friends.”

Kurt was glad Blaine couldn’t see him rolling his eyes.  “I don’t have a crush on Puck.  He’s just my friend.”

“Who you were kissing in the parking lot.”

“I plead temporary insanity?”  He could still feel Puck’s lips, his warmth, the press of their bodies together.  God, he wanted Blaine to just go away.

“Now, Kurt, we both know you can’t turn straight boys.”

_He’s not straight_ was right there on Kurt’s tongue, but he swallowed the words back.  “I’m not turning anyone.  Just- please.  Let it go.”  He fumbled his key into his lock and turned it, then leaned against the doorframe while Blaine kept talking.

“I’ve got microwave popcorn and _When Harry Met Sally_.  How about I come over and we can drown your sorrows with salt and a rom-com.”

“That’s nice of you, Blaine, but I’m really okay.  I just want to be alone, please.  Besides, I have a quiz tomorrow in math.  But can I take a rain check for Friday night?”

Blaine’s face fell for a moment before he plastered a smile back on.  “Sure.  Of course.  Good night, Kurt.”

“‘Night, Blaine.”  He managed to hold his laughter in until Blaine was back in the stairwell and he was in his room with the door closed.  He couldn’t get his phone out fast enough.

_Blaine thinks you’re straight, and that I’m trying to seduce you._

Puck must not have been driving yet, because the reply came in seconds.   _Nope, definitely not straight._

_Are we okay?_ He sent back.

_We’re fine.  Talk to you over the weekend?_

_Sure._

_Kurt._

_Yeah?_

_You’re a really good kisser._

Kurt blushed hot all the way to his ears.   _So are you.  Can we maybe sometime do it again?_

He waited and waited, but a reply didn’t come while he studied for his quiz, or while he worked on his French translations.  Finally, once he was in bed doing one last scroll through his Facebook feed, his phone chimed, one single word staring at him in the almost-dark of his room.

_Please._

__  


**New text from Mercedes:** _hey, boo, did you hear about Puck and Dave Karofsky?_

**Kurt** _: no? Oh god, they didn’t get in a fight, did they?_

**Mercedes:** _no, not even close. Quinn said she saw them at laser tag. They’re like friends or something.  It’s weird._

**Kurt** _: huh. I’ll see what I can find out._  

* * *

 

**Kurt, to Finn:** _What do you know about Puck and Karofsky being friends?_

**Finn:** _don’t get me started. It’s creeping me out. I went over to Puck’s the other day and he was there, playing Mario Kart with him and his sister._

**Kurt:** _Okay… so was he awful to you, or what?_

**Finn:** _no, he was fine. I mean, that’s suspicious right there, you know? Hey, did you and Puck have an argument or something? I thought I heard you guys talking kind of loudly in the changing room at sectionals._

**Kurt:** _not a fight. Just talking._

**Finn** **_:_ ** _Kind of loudly.  He’s been weird.  Skulking around.  Hanging out with Dave._

**Finn:** _And he won’t really look at me.  I don’t get it._

**Finn:** _It’s like when we all thought it was my baby, you know?  Like everyone is keeping secrets.  I don’t like it._

**Kurt:** _Skulking. Someone’s been doing SAT prep._

**Finn:** _shut up. I’m not dumb._

**Kurt:** _I didn’t mean it that way.  I’m sorry it feels like everyone is keeping secrets.  Puck and I have been talking, that’s all._

**Finn:** _It’s just not the same around here without you._

**Kurt:** _The New Directions sounded great at sectionals, by the way. I don’t know if I had a chance to tell you that._

**Finn:** _I wasn’t sure what to say to you, either. Not that the Warblers didn’t sound good, but I couldn’t exactly hear you. Everybody sounded the same._

**Kurt:** _That’s why it’s called “unison,” Finn._

**Finn:** _I mean, I don’t get it. Why are you letting them do that do you? You’re the best thing they’ve got. You deserve to get noticed._

**Finn:** _Are you still there?_

**Kurt:** _Yes.  I’m here.  Just thinking._

**Finn:** _Don’t think too hard, you can hurt yourself doing that!_

**Kurt:** _Words of wisdom from my very smart brother.  I’ll see you on Saturday, if I live through exams._

* * *

**Kurt, to Puck:** _Are you hooking up with Dave Karofsky?_

**Puck:** _the fuck? Are you crazy?_

**Kurt:** _From what I heard from everyone, it sure sounded like you two have become best buddies._

**Puck:** _I told you, I’m reforming him.  And he’s actually a nice guy under all that shit.  We just get each other, you know?_

**Kurt:** _yes.  Okay.  Maybe I was a little concerned about the two of you._

**Puck:** _about him and me being like the two of us._

**Kurt:** _I don’t understand what you’re doing, but it’s your choice._

**Puck:** _Just like it’s your choice what you’re doing with Blaine._

**Kurt:** _I’m not doing anything with Blaine!_

**Puck:** _And I’m not doing anything with Dave.  So you and me, we’re fine.  I’ll be around all of break, if you want to do anything._

**Kurt:** _What exactly did you have in mind? Because it’s going to be hard for me to remain your little secret if we’re around Finn and all our friends._

**Puck:** _Excuse me? Exactly who is whose secret here?_

**Puck:** _and dude, what did you tell Finn about Sectionals, because we both know he caught us making out._

**Kurt:** _I told him we were just talking.  Loudly. I didn’t think you’d want me to tell him anything else. You’re the closeted one here._

**Puck:** _don’t bother putting this all on me._

**Puck:** _You have a good holiday, Kurt. I’ll see you sometime._

**Mercedes:** _Kurt?  Are you still there?  Hello?????_

__  


There were no more texts between them for the rest of the week, but after Kurt got home for break and felt a little more settled in his own room, he got in the Navigator and drove to Puck’s house. Puck’s truck was the only car in the driveway, so he felt reasonably safe going up to the door and ringing the bell.

Puck stood in the doorway with a stony look, his arms crossed. “What do you want?”

“I miss you.”

“You miss me but you don’t want to be seen in public with me.  That’s rich.  If that’s all you’ve got, don’t bother coming in.”

“Oh my god.”  Kurt pushed past him into the living room.  “You’re an asshole, you do know that, right?  I never said I didn’t want to be seen in public with you.”

“You didn’t have to. I know what you think about me, what your friends think about me.”

“My friends are your friends, and everyone loves you.”

“Not your _Dalton_ friends.  Blaine actually looks down his nose at me.  I mean, who does that?   _He’s_ the asshole.  And he’s so flirty and handsy with you, it makes me crazy.”

Kurt laughed. “Are you saying you’re _jealous_ of Blaine?”

“No.”  Puck glared at him.  “Maybe.”

“What could you possibly have to be jealous of?” He moved into Puck’s personal space, placing his hands on Puck’s chest and waiting until he calmed down. “Blaine doesn’t get to do _this_ with me.”

“Only because you haven’t let him.  He wants to.  I can tell.”

“Maybe.  But I’m not with him, am I?” He rested his lips on Puck’s jaw and felt him shiver. “I’m with you.”

“Really?” Puck sounded more anticipatory than skeptical. “You’re with me, Kurt?”

Kurt was almost startled by the idea.  “Y-yes,” he squeaked, then cleared his throat.  “Yes,” he said again, more firm this time.

Puck’s wary face broke into a surprised smile. “Really?” he said again.

Kurt couldn’t help giggling a little.  “Yes, really,” he said, ducking his head and blushing hard.

Puck took his hand and led him down the hall, glancing behind him into the living room. “C’mon. I’m totally not ready to have this conversation with my mom right now.”

Kurt was sure he’d never been in Puck’s room, which looked and smelled a lot like what he would have expected from a teenage boy. While Puck shook out the covers on his bed and picked up half a dozen socks and t-shirts from the floor, Kurt picked up a rainbow-bedecked flyer sitting on the edge of his desk.

“Queer youth group in Findlay?” He held it out to Puck, who grinned and shrugged.

“I told Dave he needed to be educated. If he’s going to get over all this shit he’s projectile vomiting over everybody. He’s making me go too.”

Kurt sat down gingerly on the bed, wondering exactly what he was getting into by being in Puck’s room with the door closed. But Puck didn’t seem to be any more certain than he was. “Were you thinking about having that conversation with your mom soon, then?”

“No!” Puck’s denial came so suddenly and emphatically that Kurt jumped a little bit. “I can’t- not all of us have Burt Hummel for a dad. It’s better if I don’t say anything.”

Kurt nodded.  He’d heard stories from Blaine, whose father was still in denial, and from his friend Frances from Crawford whose mother thought that all-girls school would somehow turn her straight.  “I won’t say a word,” Kurt told him.  “Not to _anyone_.”

Puck nodded, his eyes on the floor. He sat down next to Kurt and splayed his fingers out on his thighs. “I guess I know that.”

Kurt reached out and rested a hand on top of one of Puck’s, and heard Puck’s breathing stop for a moment. The look he gave Kurt was so full of intent that Kurt couldn’t help letting out a little _oh._

“I really missed you,” Puck said quietly.

Kurt leaned closer.  His heart was pounding in his ears. Everything suddenly felt serious in a way their other kisses hadn’t.  

“I’m scared,” he managed to say, breathless against Puck’s cheek.

“Yeah.”  Puck’s hand rested on the back of Kurt’s neck.  He brushed his scratchy cheek against Kurt’s smooth one, and exhaled. “Remember when I said I wouldn’t let anything happen to you?”

“Yeah?”

“I meant it.” He bumped Kurt’s forehead with his own. “You don’t have to worry.”

Kurt laughed shakily. “I think I’m just worried because I don’t know what to do. This is all new for me.”

“Yeah, I’m not gonna push you. I haven’t - you know, fucked around. Especially not with dudes, but not really with anyone.  Just that once with Quinn.”

“Not Santana?  I thought you guys were all hot and heavy.”

Puck shrugged.  “Nah, I just talk a good game. And ‘Tana and me?  We’ve been friends since birth, practically, did you know that?”  Puck shuddered.  “She’s more like my sister than my own sister, and being with her like that would just be weird.”

“I guess I can see that,” said Kurt, nodding slowly. “I’m a little surprised, but… not really?” He took a deep breath and moved a little closer to Puck on the bed. “So what you’re saying is, we’re both figuring this out together?”

“Yeah.  Now,” Puck leaned in, eyes half-closed, “we’ve talked enough.  Will you just please kiss me?”

Driving home after that was a little challenging, but Kurt managed to focus on the road and obey all the traffic signs. In the driveway, he put on the parking brake, turned off the car and sighed, trying to collect his thoughts before going back in the house. They hadn’t used any kind of words like _boyfriend_ or _dating,_ but the phrase _we’re together_ did seem to convey something of that. He wondered what would happen if he told his dad about Puck. But he’d told Puck he wouldn’t tell _anybody._

Carole and Finn were talking in the family room when he came in, but their voices were too low to hear what they were saying. When he cleared his throat before walking into the room, their voices stopped.

“Where were you?” Finn asked. The question seemed a little strange coming from him, but Kurt just shrugged.

“With Mercedes and Tina at the mall. Is everything okay?”

“We’re fine,” Carole said firmly. She patted Finn on the knee and gave him a look. “We can continue this conversation another time, okay?”

Finn was frowning at him when Carole went out of the room. He leaned in close to Kurt to speak more quietly. Kurt was already worked up after spending the last several hours with Puck, and this didn’t do anything to help matters.

“I know you weren’t with Mercedes or Tina,” Finn murmured. “They already texted me looking for you. Whatever you’re up to, you’ve got to be more careful.”

That comment put him on edge for the rest of the day, even after he’d cleared things with Tina and Mercedes.

When Puck texted him the next day, he didn’t respond. Eventually, Puck called him.

“Hey,” Puck said, sounding peeved. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Kurt snapped. “I don’t have to be at your beck and call, do I?”

Puck paused, then replied, “Okay? I mean… no, of course not. I just -- I thought we could hang out tonight.”

_Hang out_ sounded both exciting and terrifying. Kurt swallowed. “I don’t know if I can make it. I think I have other plans.”

“You think?” Now Puck definitely sounded hurt. “Well, do you or don’t you?” He paused, then added, “You know, if you’d rather spend time with Blaine, you can just tell me.”

“I -- what?” Kurt had no idea how to respond to that. “What does Blaine have to do with anything?”

“You don’t have to lie to me, Kurt. Trust me, I know how much time you’ve been spending with him. I guess I thought while you were here in Lima, things might be different.”

“What, have you been _spying_ on me?” He wasn’t going to try to argue about how much time he was or wasn’t spending with Blaine, because that was irrelevant. The whole conversation was getting out of control. He took a deep breath. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“Yeah, I don’t know, Kurt. Maybe we shouldn’t bother.”

The cold tone in Puck’s voice made him feel like crying. “That’s not what I want.”

“Well, when you figure out what you _do_ want, you let me know, okay?”

That was the end of Kurt’s contact with Puck for the rest of vacation. His dreams would suggest he was interested in more of what they’d done in Puck’s bedroom, but he couldn’t bring himself to gather up the courage to call him and say anything about it. Instead, he spent all his time distracting himself with friends from Glee. He even called Blaine once or twice.

Finn walked in on the tail end of one of his conversations with Blaine. He watched Kurt suspiciously for several minutes before Kurt turned to him and said, “ _What?”_

Finn drew back, startled. “I was just -- that was Blaine, right?”

“Yes, that was Blaine.”

“Do you… like him?”

“It’s nice to have a friend who’s gay,” said Kurt. “And a boy. I’ve never had one of those before.”

“He just seems kind of…” Finn trailed off.

“Kind of what?” asked Kurt, but Finn didn’t have a response. He just shrugged.

“I’m glad you’re happy, I guess.”

“Thanks.” It was a strange conversation, but Finn had been particularly moody since breaking up with Rachel, and Kurt figured he deserved time to get over that.

It was easy to get caught up in his own life at Dalton and with the Warblers. He didn’t see much of Finn or Puck after winter break until the McKinley Titans made the football championships, and even then it was Carole who called to invite him to come to the game.

“They’re doing something exciting,” she said, “but Finn wouldn’t tell me any details. I know it has something to do with makeup, though, because he asked to borrow my white concealer. You can bring Blaine with you, if you want.”

The game was exciting, but it was even more amazing to watch the difference in Dave Karofsky. More than once, Kurt caught him smiling and high-fiving Puck and other people on the team. The Titans crushed their competition, and Dave looked like he was having a blast during the zombie half-time show. Whatever animosity had been there earlier in the year between Dave and the rest of Glee club, it was practically gone now. Kurt saw him talking excitedly with Coach Beiste and Mr. Schuester, and when he hugged Puck right there on the field, Kurt just shook his head.

“Come on,” said Blaine after the game, taking his hand and tugging him down to the edge of the field. Kurt gave all of the zombified Glee members hugs, caught up in their excitement.

When he got to Puck and Dave, standing beside one another, he hesitated, but Blaine was right there, giving him a little nudge, and he took a deep breath before saying, “I was really proud to see you guys working so well together.”

Dave looked as surprised as he felt, but he smiled back and said, “Thanks, Kurt. That’s really big of you.” He held out a hand for Kurt to shake, and Kurt shook it while Puck watched, beaming an _I-told-you-so_ smile.

“This is so weird,” he told Blaine. “I can’t believe that was the same guy who was throwing me into lockers earlier this year. Maybe Puck really has reformed him.”

On Monday, he got a text from several Glee members at once. They were too numerous to read, but Tina’s said: _OMFG you will not believe who just JOINED GLEE CLUB._

Rachel’s text answered that question. It was a photo of Dave Karofsky in the choir room, shaking Mr. Schuester’s hand and wearing a sheepish grin.

The only text he got that day that had nothing to do with Dave was from Puck. His read, _Lauren’s quitting Glee to join the football team._

_Isn’t it the end of the season?_ Kurt asked. It was the first conversation they’d had in weeks, and he tried not to focus on the pounding of his own heart as he waited for Puck’s reply.

_Beiste talked her into it, but I think she was just looking for an excuse to quit. We’ve got our twelve members now, so she doesn’t have to stick around._

_I heard,_ Kurt typed. _Dave looked really happy at the football game._

_Yeah, I think he actually is._ After a few moments, he added, _We went to that meeting in Findlay, the one on the flyer. It didn’t suck too badly._

Finn’s text, surprisingly, was the only one that wasn’t positive. It was also somewhat cryptic. _Puck’s new best friend joined Glee today,_ he said. _Not really sure what to think about that._

_I’m sure you’ll be gracious and welcoming, as you always are,_ Kurt replied.

_Yeah, I’m not all that interested in hanging out with Puck and Karofsky._

_He looked like he was having fun during the football game. Maybe you should give him a chance._

_Are you serious, Kurt??_

He thought about it before responding, _Yes, I am._

That was all he heard from Finn for the rest of the day, although he fielded comments from the rest of Glee club about their new twelfth member for hours after that. Rachel was being overwhelmingly supportive, which made Kurt wonder if she knew something about Dave that other people didn’t.

The message that made him smile the most came from Mercedes. _Strando made a comment to Dave about Glee club being gay,_ _and he said, “It’s not gay to do something you like.”_

_That’s a pretty big step,_ said Kurt. _I hope things work out for him. For all of you._

It hurt a little to see McKinley coalescing into a more welcoming space after he’d been the one to leave, but Kurt was more happy for them than sad not to be part of it. It also felt oddly vindicating that Finn was the one who was most unhappy about it. Maybe, deep in his secret heart, he didn’t really want Finn to be happy without him.

For a while, all the gossip Kurt heard from McKinley centered around Dave and Puck. There were rumors about Dave and rumors about Puck but nobody seemed to want to frame them as a couple. He heard that the slushies and other direct attacks dwindled to practically zero, as a direct result of Dave spending less time with his clique of jocks. He heard surprisingly little about McKinley at all once February rolled around, but just before Valentine’s Day, Finn’s name came up.

_Did you hear about the kissing booth?_ Mercedes asked.  

_Brittany and Finn, yes, to raise money for Nationals. What about it?_

_This morning there were a line of girls waiting to kiss Brittany.  Figgins wants to shut it down._

This seemed patently unfair to Kurt. The reverse situation seemed entirely unlikely to happen at McKinley, but it made him wonder.

_What would happen if a boy asked for a kiss from you instead of Brittany at your kissing booth?_ Kurt texted Finn.

_Nobody would,_ Finn replied.

_What, are you saying no boy would want you?_

It was meant to be teasing, but Finn didn’t reply, and Kurt began to worry he'd overstepped.

_You could always say no, thanks,_ he added, _and nobody would be offended by that._

_I wouldn’t say no if they asked._

That was an even stranger response, but Kurt was impressed nonetheless. Finn had come a long way from homophobic jerk to where he was now.

On Valentine’s Day, the Warblers performed at the Lima Bean to an audience of mixed singles and couples. Dave sat with Mike and some other guys from the football team, and even smiled a little. Puck was there with Lauren, but he didn’t look very happy. At one point, Kurt saw him scowling while Blaine sang his solo. Finn was the one to put a name to what was going on.

“He doesn’t like Blaine,” said Finn. “Which is kind of weird because Blaine is pretty cool. You know? He’s just a regular guy who likes guys.”

“Excuse me?” Kurt raised both eyebrows. “Why is that cooler than somebody like me?”

Finn went red. “I never said you weren’t cool, Kurt,” he stammered. “That’s not what I meant. I mean, maybe there are times when I don’t get where you’re coming from, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re cool.”

Before they headed back to Dalton, Kurt caught Puck by the water fountain.

“You can give up the protective act,” Kurt told him in a low voice. “Blaine’s not doing anything. He’s my friend. He’s not out to hurt me.”

Puck kept his eyes fixed on the wall as he drank. “What the hell would you know,” he said. “You think he’s a good guy, but he’s using you. He’s just going to screw you over.”

“I would think _you'd_ be the one to know something about that.”

For a moment, Puck’s eyes widened, and he looked like Kurt had slapped him. Then they narrowed again, and the hurt was replaced by anger.

“Fuck you,” he said furiously. “You know what? You deserve what you get.”

Kurt wanted to know what Puck meant; he couldn’t imagine why Blaine would use him at all, but Puck had stormed off and was snapping at Lauren before Kurt was able to find any words at all.

After that night, he paid more attention to the way Blaine acted, the things he said, especially when they were alone together. He never felt unsafe, or like anything weird was going on, but Puck’s words stuck with him.

Kurt didn’t talk to Puck again until the night of Rachel’s unfortunate party. Afterward, Finn stayed with Rachel to help clean up, while Kurt took Blaine back to his house to sleep and sober up. The drive from Rachel's took twice as long as usual because Kurt had to keep removing Blaine’s hand from his knee.

“You’re such a good singer,” slurred Blaine, stumbling up the steps and colliding with Kurt as he unlocked the front door. “I think you should have been my duet partner instead of Rachel.”

“Tell me that again when you’re sober and I might listen to it,” said Kurt. “In the meantime, you get Finn’s bed and I get my bed, okay?”

But Blaine didn’t seem willing to take no for an answer. His cajoling was far less persuasive and more creepy than it had been when he was suave and sober. Finally Kurt had to threaten to leave him on the front porch and lock the door.

“You wouldn't do that,” said Blaine, staring at him. “It’s February.”

Luckily, he passed out a few minutes later, so Kurt didn't have to prove it wasn’t an empty threat. Kurt sat on the edge of his bed for several minutes, biting his nails, before he called Puck. Surprisingly, Puck picked up right away.

_“What’s the matter?”_ he demanded.

“I’d call Finn, but he’s taking care of Rachel.”

_“Look, I’m kind of in the middle of something, so if this isn’t an emergency --?”_

“Blaine’s drunk and he’s not listening to no.”

Puck cut himself off. _“Fuck. Are you okay?”_

“I’m fine. He fell asleep, but I’m not sure what to do if he wakes up again.”

_“He probably passed out. I swear, Kurt, I’m gonna come over there and carry him out of there if he even thinks about touching you.”_

He watched Blaine’s chest rise and fall as he slept. “So much for deserving what I get, huh?”

_“I never meant that,”_ said Puck. _“Not one time. Okay? I’m a fucking idiot sometimes but I never want to see you hurt.”_

Kurt put his head on his pillow and let his eyes close. “I knew that. That’s why I called you. You don't have to come, I just… I wanted to know you were there.”

There was a silence. _“Call me again if… just, whatever.”_

“Okay. Thank you.”

When Kurt opened his eyes again, it was early morning and Finn was not-so-stealthily opening drawers.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I needed some clean clothes. I can get out of here.”

“It’s okay,” said Kurt, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “I don't think you could wake up Blaine with a live death metal performance. Is Rachel okay?”

“She probably needs to wash her hair,” said Finn, grimacing. “I didn't do a very good job of holding it out of her face when she barfed.”

“You don’t actually need to take care of her. She’s the one who broke up with you. And are you with Quinn or what?”

“I’m not. I mean, who said I was?” Finn looked nervous. “Are we that obvious?”

“Kind of. Maybe I just know you better than most people.”

“Maybe.” He sighed and sat on Kurt’s bed while he struggled out of yesterday's shirt. “I guess we could be together, if I wanted that.”

“Do you?”

“I don’t know.”

Finn looked so sad that Kurt hugged him. It didn’t occur to him until after he did it that neither of them were wearing shirts, and it might still be a little weird to hug a guy he used to have a crush on while only half-dressed. But then Finn made a little noise that made Kurt’s heart constrict. He put his arms around Kurt and held on tight. Kurt swallowed, feeling tears come to his eyes.

“Hey,” he said softly.

Finn gave himself a little shake and sat up, pulling away from him, while Kurt watched in concern.

“I’m fine,” said Finn, “it’s just… you know. It’s messy.”

“What is?”

“Everything. All this -- this stuff we’re doing.” He made a broad gesture. Kurt tried to follow it, and shrugged in confusion.

“Do you mean… like, life?”

“Sure. Or this piece of it. I think I thought by now I would have figured things out by now. More of them, anyway. Like, I could see where I’ve been and where I’m going and how it all fits together.” He shook his head. “But it just feels… tangled up. Like there’s no pattern.”

Kurt nodded. “Maybe there isn’t.” He watched Finn’s face fall, and quickly added, “Or maybe you just can’t see it yet. Maybe you’re still too close to the middle of it, and it’ll become clearer as you go.”

Finn knitted his brow. “Then how do I know if I’m doing it right?”

“There’s no _right,_ Finn. It’s just whatever you choose. Sometimes it works out and… and sometimes it doesn’t.”

Even though he believed what he was saying, for a moment it hit him in a raw spot, and he had to look away while he collected himself. Then Finn was holding his hand, and Kurt gave him a grateful smile.

“Maybe,” Kurt went on hesitantly, “maybe you have to figure out what you want it to look like along the way. And if it doesn’t look the way you were hoping, you can kind of undo what you’ve done and try again.”

Finn looked dubious. “You can do that?”

“You can always do that.” Kurt rolled his eyes, trying to lighten the mood.  “Despite what our parents want us to think, no decision is permanent. And isn’t being seventeen all about figuring ourselves out?”

“Maybe.” He laughed quietly. “I guess if I don’t have it figured out by the time I’m eighteen, I can always… I don’t know, join the military or something, right?”

Kurt shuddered.  “I can’t see you in camo, but if that’s what you want.”

Finn went silent for a long moment.  “What if what I want is someone I can’t have?”

“Don’t be silly. You could have just about any girl you--” He paused at the guilty, miserable look on Finn’s face, and closed his mouth, staring at him.

“Don’t tell anybody,” Finn whispered.

Kurt was quick to reassure him.  “Don’t worry.  I won’t.  Just--” he lowered his voice even further.  “Just, please, tell me.  Is it Puck?”

“No. Well -- sort of.” Finn scrubbed at his face. “I don’t know. Everything is just all messed up, you know?”

Kurt stared at Blaine, burrowed under Finn’s blankets.  “Yeah,” he said, softly.  “I do know.”

His dad gave him and Blaine the fisheye when he came in and found Blaine passed out in Finn’s bed, but he didn’t question it. Maybe he noticed Blaine was still fully clothed, or maybe he actually trusted Kurt to make good decisions. Either way, Kurt appreciated it.

Before he put Blaine in the passenger seat and drove him back to Dalton, Kurt sent Puck one more text: _Nothing happened. I’m okay._ He hesitated, then added, _I think Finn might need somebody to talk to, though._

There were so many other things he could have said, but they were so tangled up in the silence that had grown between them, he didn’t think any of them were appropriate. Instead he settled on, _Thank you for last night,_ and left it at that.

Kurt wasn’t sure at which point Blaine shifted from “just a friend” to “potential boyfriend.” It happened so gradually that the differences blended into one another. When Blaine kissed him in the library, the pros appeared to immediately outweigh the cons, and he went with it. He was sure at least some of it was because Blaine was a really good kisser, and it just felt so _good_ to kiss somebody after so many months without Puck. After that, their story seemed to practically write itself, and it felt so easy and ordinary that Kurt couldn’t question it.

He didn’t talk to Puck at Regionals, even though the Warblers and the New Directions had several opportunities to interact, but he did catch Dave Karofsky’s attention.

“I wanted to tell you how good you sounded on your solo,” said Kurt.

“Thanks,” Dave said, blushing and staring at his shoes.  “Puck helped me practice.  I wasn’t even that nervous before the championship game.”

“I’m really glad you and Puck are friends, Dave.”  It was a little hard to think, between nerves about his own solo and the press of bodies around them.  He grabbed Dave’s hand and dragged him into the hall.  The air was cooler there, and Kurt watched as the heat dissipated from Dave’s cheeks.  “You deserve to be happy.”

“You really think that? After everything I did?”

Kurt nodded, knowing it was the truth.  “I do.”

Wes stuck his head out into the hall, waving at Kurt.  “Come on, Kurt, it’s time to warm up.”

“Just a minute,” Kurt called out.  He turned back to Dave.  “Glee seems to agree with you.”

“Yeah. Um. Listen, Kurt.  I need to tell you how sorry I am.  Because I am. So freaking sorry, Kurt. I was so awful to you, just because I hated _myself_ so much.”

Kurt reached for Dave’s hand, giving it a firm squeeze.  “I know. It’s okay. I think I forgave you a long time ago. So please, forgive yourself.”

The door to the wings creaked open, revealing David this time.  “Kurt. Really.”

Kurt stepped away from Dave.  “Okay, okay.  I’m coming.”

Puck sat on the end of the row, the aisle on his right and Finn on his left.  He’d worked hard to avoid Kurt backstage, not sure how it would feel to see Kurt playing at being boyfriends with Blaine.  

He’d found out about the two of them while eating pizza and watching movies at Mike’s house. Kurt sent a text to Tina to let her know that Blaine had kissed him. Everybody seemed to think Blaine was so _good_ for Kurt, but Puck didn’t like the way Blaine talked, like he was _so_ much better than Kurt because his family came from money.  All Puck knew about money was that there was never enough of it in his family, or in Kurt’s for that matter. After what had happened the night of Rachel's party, Puck just didn't trust Blaine, and he was starting to wonder if maybe Kurt didn't, either.

When the music started and Kurt stepped out of the crowd on the risers and into the spotlight, Puck grabbed at Finn’s arm.  

“Did you know he had a solo?” he hissed into Finn’s ear.

Finn shook his head.  “Nope.  Good for him.”

“I just hope it wasn’t because of Blaine.”

“Would you shut up and listen?”

_The power lines went out and I was all alone,_ Kurt sang.  Puck tried to pay attention to the singing, but all he could focus on was the slightly terrified look on Kurt's face. Puck knew that look; he'd seen it a lot since Kurt went to Dalton. It screamed _I'm not sure what I'm doing,_ with a side of _stop the ride, I want to get off_. And Puck didn't think it had anything to do with the solo.

He finally got a moment with Kurt when all the groups were milling around onstage before the awards ceremony. He pulled Kurt into the wings, leaning close. “You okay?”

Kurt nodded. “Yeah. I'm . . . fine.”

“He's not pressuring you, is he?”

He looked startled. “No! Well -- no. He’s not.”

Puck sighed. “Yeah, like that’s convincing. I guess I’m gonna have to trust you. Let me know if I need to kick his ass, okay? Guys like him are used to getting whatever they want, so just be--”

“Kurt! There you are!” Blaine breezed past them and grabbed Kurt's hand.  “Come on! It's almost time.”

Kurt glanced back at Puck as Blaine practically dragged him onto the stage. _It's okay_ , he mouthed. But Puck still didn't believe him.

Later that night, long after his solo was over and the Warblers had lost and they’d gone back to Dalton, Kurt got a text from an unknown number.

_Thanks, Kurt, for what you said today._

_Who is this?_ he asked.

_It’s Dave. I won’t bug you anymore, but I wanted you to know how much it meant to me._

It seemed amazing that Dave Karofsky could make him feel sentimental for McKinley. _You’re not bugging me, Dave. We have mutual friends._

_Okay._

“Who’s that?” asked Blaine, leaning over to look at Kurt’s phone. Kurt tipped it so it was hidden against his chest. A shadow crossed Blaine’s face, and he laughed. “What, do we have secrets now?”

“No, of course not,” said Kurt. “It was just Dave, thanking me for something I said to him today.”

“You’re really kind to give him the benefit of the doubt.” Blaine patted him on the leg. “I mean, he could be fooling all of you.”

“No, I trust him.”

Kurt knew Blaine would think he was talking about Dave, but that wasn’t who he meant. _I trust Puck,_ he thought, staring at the improbable conversation on his phone. _He’s the one who gave Dave the benefit of the doubt._

In retrospect, Kurt was extraordinarily glad Blaine had family obligations, and that Kurt had decided to come back to Lima that weekend without him anyway. He brought his laundry and his enormous history term paper and had settled in at the dining room table to do some serious studying when the doorbell rang.

Finn answered the door, then paused. “Uh… hey, guys.”

Kurt turned to see Puck and Dave standing in the doorway. Dave looked completely terrified, but Puck gave him a gentle shove over the threshold, and he stumbled inside, glancing around like he’d never been to the Hudson-Hummel house before.

“Hi, Dave,” Carole called from the kitchen. Her tone was casual, but Kurt knew she was watching them as carefully as he was. “Hi, Puck. Close the door, the mosquitoes are awful right now.”

“Hi, Mrs. H-H.” Puck nodded grimly at Dave. “We’ve got something to discuss with Finn.”

“Sure. I’ll be in here. Just… come get me if you need anything.” She vanished back into the kitchen. Kurt looked from Puck to Dave to Finn as the tension continued to climb.

“I can go downstairs,” Kurt offered, but Puck put out a hand.

“No, you should stay for this.”

“For fuck’s sake,” muttered Dave. _“Kurt_ has to hear this?”

“Kurt totally has to hear this. What, you want me to go into the kitchen and get Finn’s mom, too?”

Dave groaned. “Okay, okay. Just… give me a second.” He took a deep breath, then paced across the dining room while Finn sank into a chair next to Kurt.

“What is this about?” he said slowly.

“Um, okay. I guess this is kind of… remember back when we were kids? We were friends, you and me.”

Finn nodded. “Yeah? I mean, yeah. We were.”

His voice sounded hard, and Dave sighed again. “There was some… confusing stuff going on.” He caught the look Puck shot him from the corner, nodding, and he went on, “No, okay, I _wasn’t_ confused, I was -- I knew exactly how I felt. I was just embarrassed. And scared.”

Now Finn’s eyes were widening, and he looked over at Puck in realization. “Uh --”

“The stuff that went down with you and me,” Dave said. “I wanted to do… you know, stuff you didn’t. Because even then, in fifth grade, I knew I liked guys. I didn’t know how to talk about it and I was scared you were gonna beat me up because of it, so I pushed you. That wasn’t cool.” He glanced over at Kurt. “I guess… it’s been kind of a pattern. And I just wanted to apologize. For all of it, but especially because you were my friend and you trusted me and… I broke that trust.”

Finn was staring open-mouthed at Dave. It took him a long moment to say anything.

“Well…” Finn cast around the room with his eyes. “I guess... it wasn’t exactly cool of me to go to school the next day and tell everybody you had pubes.”

Dave shrugged. “I deserved it.” He held out a hand, watching Finn hopefully. “Anyway. It’s been more than six years. I was hoping we could... put this behind us?”

Finn took his hand and stood up, gripping it, and they both nodded.

“Did you just _come out_ to Finn?” Kurt said in a choked voice.

“Well, I figured he knew already.” He looked at Kurt.

“I guess I did,” said Finn. “I mean… no, I really didn’t. But it’s cool,” he added, as Dave’s face went white.

“You didn’t tell him?” Dave said to Kurt in shock.

“I said I wasn’t going to tell anybody, and I didn’t.” Kurt said. “But I’m proud of you for doing it. It gets easier.”

“Yeah. This was person number six.” Dave gave him a tentative smile. “So far nobody has wanted to beat me up or disown me. I’d call that a win.” Then he turned to Puck and breathed a long sigh. “So. How’d I do?”

Puck’s grin was triumphant. Kurt thought he might give Dave a high-five or some kind of noogie, but Puck simply grabbed him in a hug and held on tight. Finn looked like he might be about to pass out, but he just sat there, looking at anybody but Puck and Dave.

“Okay, you’re free to go,” said Puck, and Dave nodded, clearly relieved. He waved to Kurt before heading out the door and down the driveway.

“Dude.” Finn gave Puck a _what-the-fuck_ look. “Can I talk to you downstairs for a minute?”

There was no way Kurt was going to be able to concentrate on history now, so he left his books where they were and headed into the kitchen. Carole looked surprised to see him.

“Is Finn done with Dave and Puck?” she asked.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think he is.”

“This wasn’t about you,” said Puck before Finn could say a word. “This was about him. He’s been thinking about this for years, man. _Years._ It was like one of those songs you can’t get out of your head.”

“An earworm.” Finn sounded exhausted, and it wasn’t even five o’clock.

“Yeah, an earworm. He couldn’t let it go. I thought, hey, if he could talk about it with _you_ , maybe it’d make things easier to put in perspective. Don’t you think?”

He turned around and stared at Puck. “You’re asking what I _think?_ What do you think I was _supposed_ to think?”

“What?”

“Me and Dave, the two of us. We used to do all kinds of things together. And now you’re telling me he’s -- he’s what, he’s _gay?_ ” Finn paced the span between the wall and the television, staring at the floor. “And I was supposed to know this already?”

“No, you weren’t. Kurt’s not a snitch. Me, neither.” Puck bore Finn’s outraged expression with patient stoicism. “Yeah, I knew. Me and Dave, we never would have been friends if he hadn’t set his sights on Kurt, back in the fall. I didn’t find out about the stuff he did with you until later.”

“Yeah, but… but that could have just been something kids do. Experimenting. It could have been nothing.” Finn stepped up the pacing, until he was making it across the room and back again in eight long strides.

“It _could_ have,” Puck said, “but it wasn’t. That’s what he’s telling you.”

“Yeah.” Finn stopped in the middle of the floor, his mouth pressed into a determined line. He looked Puck right in the eyes. “Yeah. I’m… I’m telling you, too.”

“You are.” Puck cocked his head. “Wait… _you_ are? You mean you’re --”

“I’m saying the thing that could have been nothing,” Finn said, in an exaggerated-slow manner, “for Dave, back then. That thing that was something, was... something for me, too.”

Puck wasn’t entirely surprised to hear it, but he _was_ startled to hear Finn choose to say something about it. He looked more closely at Finn. “But you didn’t want to tell Dave that?”

“I don’t know. I could. Maybe I will.” He shook his head. “Does it even matter?”

“Of course it matters!” shouted Puck. Finn flinched, but he didn’t move away. “What, do you think all that shit Kurt went through, moving to Dalton, that it should be for nothing? No. Because now, Dave fucking Karofsky, one of the most popular guys in school, who by the way is no longer a bully, thanks to me, is ready to come out to the world that he’s gay. In case you were wondering, number four and five were his mom and dad. Number seven’s gonna be Azimio.”

“What were you?”

“I was number two. After Kurt.”

“So why’d he come out to you?”

He bared his teeth in a bitter grin. “Because. I came out to him first.”

Puck watched as all the movement went out of Finn, except for his eyes, which rested on every part of Puck. Puck watched Finn look him over, feeling as victorious as he had ten minutes ago as Dave confronted his ten-year-old demons. _Yep. Check it out. I’m still me. I’m still the same as I was five seconds ago._

Then Finn’s eyes hardened again. “So you’re a hypocrite. You’re getting down on me for not being honest about myself, but you’re not gonna tell anybody about yourself either?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t,” said Puck. “I’m waiting for the right time.”

“It’s because of Dave, isn’t it.” Finn licked his lips. “The two of you.”

“No.”

“Come on, dude, I’ve known you forever. I know what you look like when you’re in love and  you’ve been looking like that for months now.”

“I’m not,” Puck insisted. “Dave’s great, as it turns out, and he has a hilarious sense of humor and he kicks my ass at every sport, and have you _seen_ his moves on the dance floor? And no. It’s not Dave.”

He just wanted to laugh in Finn’s face because whatever he thought he knew was obviously off base, and it hadn’t dawned on him that it was because the premise had been wrong all along. _You think you know what I look like when I’m in love, but that’s the way I’ve looked since you turned to me in fucking third grade and smiled and said Hi, I’m Finn._

Maybe that was why, when Finn said very softly, “Just tell me,” Puck gave up.

“It’s Kurt.”

At least Finn didn’t punch him. He did wrinkle up his face and stare at him in disbelief.

“ _Kurt?_ You don’t like Kurt. You barely tolerate him.”

“You’re such a fucking brilliant observer, Hudson.”  

Now Finn looked pissed, but it subsided fairly quickly into his usual bewildered expression. “Really? Does, uh… does he know?”

Puck had to laugh. “My tongue was in his mouth for most of the last six months. I think he knew _something._ ”

“Oh.” He watched Finn connect the dots in his head. “That explains a lot. You mean all that time he was gone from the house, when I thought he was sneaking around with Blaine, he was actually sneaking around with _you?”_

“Yeah. And now he really _is_ with Blaine, and I get to watch him pretend everything’s okay.”

Finn gave him a ghost of a smile. “You never liked Blaine. Now I know why.”

“It’s because Blaine’s a _jerk,”_ he spat. “Kurt deserves better. Even if it’s not me.”

“So, uh.” Finn took a step back. “I won’t tell anybody. About you.”

Puck rolled his eyes. “Fuck, you can tell anybody you want. Sex shark has no gender preference, okay? However people want to judge me, they go right ahead. But before you start freaking out, I won’t tell about you either.”

“Thanks.” At least Finn had the courtesy to look ashamed of himself.

Puck left him there. He walked back upstairs, past Kurt who didn’t try to stop him, to his truck. When he got home, he “borrowed” a six-pack of beer from his mom’s fridge and got quietly drunk in his bedroom, and he only cried a little bit.

“What are we doing, then, if we’re not rehearsing?” Finn asked as Kurt led him back into the choir room.

“You’re making your shirts for Glee club’s Lady Gaga number,” said Kurt. “I offered to help. So you won’t burn the school down.”

“I just can’t figure out how this machine even _works._ ” He lifted a lever and peered inside the letter press. “Does it stamp them on? It looks like a big iron.”

Kurt saw Puck come through the door with Dave, and gave them a quick smile before focusing back on Finn. The last thing he needed was for all of them to notice him _not watching_ Puck.

“It’s a hot foil press,” Kurt explained, raising his voice so Puck and Dave could hear. “I’m going to type your words into this template on the computer and print them backwards onto this special paper, and then the press will use heat and pressure to stick them onto the fabric.”

“Cool.” Finn patted him on the shoulder. “Thanks for doing this, Kurt.”

“Well, there was no way Ms. Pillsbury was going to let you touch her letter press. So the question is: what do you want on your shirts?”

The room fell silent. Kurt cleared his throat.

“Okay, my understanding was you were supposed to choose something you have always struggled to accept about yourself--”

“Yeah, we know the assignment, Kurt,” said Puck. “We just have to figure out how to make his and mine work together.”

Dave grinned. “So, yeah, Puck, I was thinking, if yours said _MOSTLY GAY,_ then mine could say _MORE GAY,_ and--”

“What?” yelped Finn, as Kurt’s jaw dropped.

“Or _MEGA GAY.”_ Puck cocked his head. “ _SUPER GAY?_ That sounds more like a superhero.”

“I kind of like it,” said Dave.

“Hold on, hold on,” Finn said, waving his hands. “You -- you’re gonna come out on a _shirt?_ _Both_ of you?”

“Well, I thought that was the point of the assignment.” Dave shrugged. “I don’t know, dude. Nobody’s been as cool to me as the Glee club. If I’m gonna do this, it might as well start with you guys.”

Puck reached out with a foot and kicked Finn’s chair. “Didn’t I say I was waiting for the right time? This is _totally_ the right time.”

Dave nodded. “Anyway, this whole year has kind of been go big or go home.” He smiled at Kurt, who had managed to close his mouth. “Now that I think about it, maybe my shirt should say _BULLY._ What do you think, Kurt?”

“You’re not that anymore, Dave,” he said. “You haven’t been for a long time.”

Puck and Dave tossed ideas back and forth for a while. Eventually Kurt turned to Finn and gave him a shaky smile. “Well, this was... unexpected.”

“You’re telling me,” Finn said.

“What about you? Do you know what you want your shirt to say?”

He muttered something into his hands. Kurt had to lean in and ask him to repeat himself. Finn looked almost angry.

“ _CAN’T DANCE,”_ he said, in a loud voice, as Puck and Dave fell silent. “I might as well accept it.”

Dave looked back and forth between Puck and Finn. “I don’t know, man. I think you’re a pretty good dancer.” Everybody stared at him, but he just shrugged. “What? I heard about what you did at your mom’s wedding. And you did great in Thriller.”

“Okay, you're totally lying. But whatever.” Finn stared at his shoes. “I _like_ dancing. That’s the worst part.”

“So you don’t do it like everybody else. So what?” Dave gave him an encouraging grin. “What’s that thing about _dance like nobody is watching_. What about that?”

Kurt held up a finger. “Wait… I have an idea. I don't know if everyone would get it, but it's funny _and_ accurate. But let’s do Puck’s and Dave’s first.” He ventured a smile at them. “You trust me?”

“Yeah, of course,” said Dave, and Puck looked at him in surprise. Then he grinned.

“Go ahead, Kurt,” he said. “Just make them.”  

They all watched while he worked, typing quickly and setting the shirt in the press. When it was done, he turned the shirt around. _HELLO, GAY NOW_ , it said in big black letters. Finn went pale, but Dave reached out, beating Puck to it.

“Mine!” Dave crowed. He looked completely delighted. “I’m the biggest Buffy the Vampire Slayer fan.”

“Of course you are.” Kurt went back to the press, setting another shirt in and getting a third one ready.  Within minutes, he handed it to Puck, who laughed before turning it around to show all of them. _YEP. I’M GAY._

“Pretty much,” he said, smiling. “Better than Ellen doing it on the cover of _Time Magazine,_ huh?”

Dave and Puck talked about how they were going to do their big reveal while Kurt finished Finn’s shirt. He paused as he took it out of the press, giving Finn an apologetic smile.

“If you hate it, we’ll figure something else out. I just remember how much you laughed when we watched [that scene in ](https://youtu.be/55Pnw-tEVek)_[The Birdcage.](https://youtu.be/55Pnw-tEVek)”_  

Finn held up the shirt to read _ECLECTIC CELEBRATION OF DANCE_. He touched the words in awe, then turned to Kurt, laughing. “Yeah?”

Puck’s face brightened into a grin. “Dude, it's perfect,” he said. “That is _exactly_ how you dance.”

Dave frowned. “I don't get it.”

“Okay, if you're going to be gay, you _have_ to see _The Birdcage,”_ Kurt said.

Before any of them could move, Finn was on his feet, bouncing around in a completely earnest imitation of Robin Williams. Within seconds they were all laughing so hard they were crying.

“See,” said Puck, when he was able to form coherent sentences again. He nudged Kurt with a limp finger. “Like I said at your dad’s wedding. You’re miraculous.”

“If this is your definition of a miracle,” said Finn, grinning at all of them, “I’ll take it.”

Finn and Quinn met Kurt and Blaine for dinner before junior prom, which was a nice way to help Kurt feel like he wasn’t just crashing the McKinley party again. He supposed he should be grateful Blaine even wanted to come with him at all. Finn was very appreciative of Kurt’s choice of apparel (“Hey, it’s like gay Braveheart.”) even if Blaine didn’t care much for it.

“Can you please keep an eye on Blaine?” Kurt whispered to Puck when Blaine wasn’t nearby. “I know there’s a tradition for people to spike the punch, and I’d rather that Blaine didn’t drink too much. The last thing I want tonight is a repeat of Rachel’s party.”

“You got it,” Puck said, snapping a salute. “I’m on the job.”

“Thanks.” Kurt smiled at him gratefully. Puck’s white tux looked a lot better on him than it had on the mannequin. He nodded at Dave as he carefully climbed down the ladder after repairing some of the fallen decorations. “Was there any backlash after Born This Way? I mean, I know there was no official audience for you wearing those t-shirts, but I know how word travels…”

“Not really?” Puck had to think about it, which told Kurt something. Finally he shrugged. “I guess people yelled stuff across the hallway at us, but that could have been friendly fire, too. You know how guys talk.”

“I just don’t want to see either one of you get hurt,” said Kurt. Dave gave Kurt an appreciative smile.

“I think I can take it,” said Dave. “My skin’s not as thin as it used to be. Helps to have a tight end guarding my flank. Uh, that’s a football reference, Kurt.”

“I know,” snapped Kurt, while Puck cracked up. “I did play on your team once, if you recall. In the literal sense.”

Dave and Puck might have come to prom together, but it wasn’t until several slow dances had gone by that Kurt realized they were sitting those out.

“Is this a statement,” he asked Puck, “or does dancing with a boy feel too edgy?”

“Maybe it’s that I don’t like that kind of dancing?” Puck sighed at Kurt’s raised eyebrow. “Okay, maybe I’m not totally sure if I’m ready to take the heat if Dave and I dance together. We’re here as friends, right? I don’t want to give anybody the wrong idea about us. It’s not like a whole bunch of other guy friends are out there dancing together.” He shook his head. “Don’t worry about it, Kurt. This is one of those battles I just don’t care enough about.”

“Maybe you’d like to dance with me instead,” he found himself saying.

Blaine immediately volunteered to dance with Dave, which seemed to make him happy, so there went Puck’s argument about no other guys being on the dance floor. Puck shrugged. “Why not?”

They did get a few weird looks, but no more than he had already been getting while dancing with Blaine. Kurt tried to be aware of his own response to being this close with Puck. Between “being a positive example for closeted students” and “smugly groping the guy in the white tux,” he decided he should lean toward the former.  

It was true that, while Finn and Quinn were the favorites for prom king and queen, it was impossible to predict ahead of time which of the nominees might win. But Kurt had not even heard rumors about writing in Dave as a contender for prom king. Dave looked as surprised as Kurt felt when Figgins placed the crown on his head. When he handed him the scepter, Dave punched the air with it, and the whole junior class cheered.

“And now, in a landmark write-in campaign, the winner of this year’s prom queen is…” Figgins jerked his head up in shock. “... Noah Puckerman.”

Kurt, and nearly every person in the gym, turned to look at Puck. For one brief instant, Kurt thought he might bolt out of the room. Then Puck let out a whoop of laughter and ran up the steps to stand next to Dave on the platform. He got nearly as many cheers as Dave had, and a lot more catcalls and whistles. They gave each other a big high-five.

After Principal Figgins produced an appropriately sized crown that would stay on Puck’s mohawk, he put up his hands for silence. “It is tradition that the prom king and queen should lead the last dance.” He gestured to Puck and Dave to take the floor.

This time, there was no hesitation. Dave made a little bow to Puck, who curtseyed, and they moved into each other’s arms, backs straight and smiling. They didn’t look like lovers, but they did look like ordinary guys who happened to be dancing with one another, and that was remarkable in and of itself.

“I love the diversity here tonight,” said Blaine, as they watched Dave and Puck circle the dance floor to the tune of “Dancing Queen.” “There’s something here for everyone.”

Kurt wasn’t entirely sure there was. He could see the look of disappointment on Finn’s face, although that could have been simply because he and Quinn had lost the campaign for prom king and queen.

He went to find Puck afterward to congratulate him once more, but it was hard to make his way through the crowd of admirers and onlookers. By the time he reached Puck’s side, he felt both ignored and frustrated.

“Hey, Kurt,” said Puck, smiling at him. “You guys want to come out with us for ribs? Better than the official afterparty, right?”

Kurt opened his mouth to reply and found himself suddenly close to tears. “I can’t,” he said. Then he turned around and pushed his way back through the crowd he’d fought to get through in the first place.

Thankfully, Blaine was sober. Kurt was able to kiss him and tell him to go home without him, without feeling anxious about Blaine driving. He stood in the parking lot by himself for a long time after Blaine drove away, wondering what kind of cruel karma he’d inherited to make him this miserable at his former school’s junior prom.

“Hey,” called a voice. Kurt turned to see Finn standing on the curb by the side door. “You okay?”

“Not really,” he admitted.

Finn nodded. “You need a ride?”

Quinn didn’t look pleased when Finn told her to go on to the afterparty without him, but at least she did it without getting angry. Finn took Kurt home. They sank onto the couch without taking off their tux jackets.

“God, why am I so energized after Glee rehearsal, but this kind of dancing makes me _exhausted?”_ Finn groaned.

Kurt watched Finn stretching for a few indulgent moments before looking away. “It’s not the kind of dancing that feeds your soul.”

Finn nodded. He reached out a tentative hand and rested it on Kurt’s thigh, mere inches from bare skin. Kurt felt his body respond entirely inappropriately, but he couldn’t bring himself to move away.

“I kind of noticed you weren’t having a good time at the end there,” he said.

Kurt shook his head. “You, either.”

“Not really. All this prom king and queen stuff, that was for Quinn. She’s not going to be happy on Monday.”

Without warning, Kurt started to cry. Finn said, “Oh,” and Kurt shook his head, trying to make sure Finn knew it wasn’t about him, that it wasn’t his fault at all. But Finn just put his arms around him and held him.

“I didn’t realize,” Kurt sobbed. “I didn’t know it was going to be like that tonight. I thought it was _fine_ , that I wasn’t… I didn’t know I still felt…”

“Oh.” This time he sounded surprised. “Kurt, is this about Puck?”

Kurt nodded. Finn didn’t let him go until his tears subsided, but when they did, he leaned down to look Kurt right in the face.

“Kurt,” he said. He sounded so determined. “You’re in love with him?”

He nodded again. Finn’s eyes fell to his lap, just for a moment, but then he looked back up again.

“He feels the same way. About you.”

Kurt blew a derisive breath through his nose. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Hey.” Finn gave him a little smile. “I’m telling you, he does. I didn’t know until just a little while ago. I think... he thinks you gave up on him.”

“No!” Kurt sat back, shaking his head. He felt so absolutely certain that Finn was wrong. He _had_ to be wrong. Otherwise -- otherwise --

“I think you’d better tell him.”

“I’ve been trying,” he protested. “For a long time. But I don’t think he’s really listening.”

Finn nodded slowly. “Well… when it comes to Puck, you might need to be _extra_ loud and clear about what you mean. Otherwise he’s not going to hear you.” Kurt watched Finn stand, then walk toward the basement. “I’m heading to bed.”

Kurt followed Finn after a few minutes. He thought he might have heard noises that sounded like crying on his way downstairs, but Finn was quiet and the room was dark when he got there, so it must have been a mistake.

Kurt sat across from Blaine, nonfat mocha in hand, watching his McKinley friends stream into the Lima Bean the morning of their last day of school. Dalton had been out for almost a week already, and Kurt had promised Blaine they'd go sheet music shopping that morning, but he also wanted to see everyone after their Nationals trip; he'd only gotten the bare bones of the stories from Finn the night before.

It wasn't supposed to hurt that much, watching your friends celebrate a huge event. He couldn't help the little nagging part of his brain that kept telling him _you never should have left_ . _You should be with them right now._

“-- so I need your help,” Blaine said, and Kurt blinked at him.

There was no reason for Kurt to feel so disconnected from what Blaine was saying. They were all just the kind of things he should be interested in, but every time he had to refocus his attention on Blaine’s words, it seemed like it took a Herculean effort.

Blaine tilted his head. “You look like you could use a break. Good thing it’s summer.”

“I'm sorry,” Kurt said. “I’m listening. What do you need my help with?”

“I don't know what to sing this year. I mean, this is the third year I'll be working there, if I get in. _When_ I get in, I mean. But I feel like maybe I should shake things up a little. Maybe sing Kesha instead of Pink.”

_Oh god please not any more Pink,_ Kurt though, then watched Blaine to make sure he hadn't spoken out loud by mistake. But Blaine was just staring at him, eyes heavy, with an odd little grin on his face. _Oh_. Kurt knew that look. That was the look Blaine had given him in the common room before they'd kissed the first time. He scrambled to say something, anything, to fill the empty space between them, before Blaine could speak.

“I think Kesha is a good choice. Though you can never go wrong with some classic Madonna, and it might be more family friendly. Just,” Kurt said, snickering, “just not _Like a Virgin.”_

Blaine took a breath. “I _love_ you,” he said, earnestly.

“I --” said Kurt. He got to his feet, pushing his mocha across the table, and gave Blaine’s startled face an apologetic look. “I’m _sorry.”_ Then he raced out the door before he could hear Blaine’s response. He had a long drive to make.

The courtyard at McKinley was teeming with people sprawled on the steps, signing yearbooks and chatting about summer plans. It was a fair bet Puck would be there before his next class. Kurt scanned the crowd for him, and finally spotted him at the top of the stairs, bouncing a hacky sack on his shoe while he talked with Dave.

“Puck!” Kurt called as he darted up the stairs. “Puck!”

Puck turned, dropping the hacky sack to the cement. “Kurt? What are you--?”

“I'm so stupid,” Kurt said, skidding to a stop and trying to catch his breath. “There's this guy. He just told me he loves me, but I'm not there with him. I'm here, because I don't love him.”

“I don't understand.”

Dave poked Puck with his elbow. “Maybe you're the one who’s stupid.”

“Shut up,” Puck said, but his eyes never left Kurt. “You're not making sense.”

“I don't love Blaine,” Kurt said. “I shouldn't have said yes to him. I never should have left McKinley. I shouldn't have let us walk away from each other.”

Puck just stared at him, mouth open. Dave elbowed him again. “Dude. This is movie awesome.”

“What are you _saying_ , Kurt?” Puck finally managed. “I mean, I think I know, but we've pretty much sucked at the words part of this.”

“I'm saying that I'm stupid and I made mistakes. And I didn’t want to sit in the Lima Bean and listen to Blaine tell me he loves me when all I can think about is how much I wanted to say it to you.”

Dave cleared his throat. “Uh, you might want to say it then, Kurt.”

Kurt was brought up short by the sight of Finn over Puck’s shoulder, waiting in the doorway. He was watching them intently, but when he made eye contact with Kurt, he smiled, and made a gesture like a megaphone in front of his mouth. He mouthed three words that Kurt could read across the courtyard: _loud and clear._ Then he nodded at Puck.

Kurt cleared his throat, then pitched his voice to carry to the back of the courtyard. “I love you, Noah Puckerman.”

The sheer number of people listening became immediately apparent when they all started clapping at once. Kurt reached out and grabbed Puck’s hand, rolling his eyes.

“Maybe that was a little _too_ loud _,”_ he said, raising his voice to be heard over the tumult.

“No, I think maybe that was just right.” Puck tugged Kurt close, leaning in and whispering into his ear. “I love you, too.”


End file.
